Sprawl #3 176 x 246 mm, 48 pages Sprawl is a new Nottingham-based indie mag dedicated to DIY subcultures, music and art. Available both online and in print, and taking inspiration from the scrappy punk fanzines of the late 70s and early 80s, inside you’ll primarily find conversations with scenesters old and new. After hours photographer Mischa Haller sets the tone of this third issue, which features a shot from his recently published photobook ‘Not Going Home’—an ode to 90s club culture—on the cover. Inside, he reflects on his early career, the evolution of the dance floor following seismic shocks such as the collapse of communism and 9/11, as well as what remains once the lights go up. Also featured: Sonic Youth guitarist and vocalist Lee Ranaldo, English rock band Ulrika Spacek, graphic artists Steph Dutton and Imarni Boyer-Nugent, Canadian collective Crack Cloud, and more. Words: MagCulture
Red Mile opened out into vast terrain and almost mythic imagery, whereas Peace and Purpose feels compressed, basement acoustics, tighter arrangements, a much more intimate sonic space. What did that stripping away of spectacle reveal about the core of the music?
Zach: I imagine it creates a different experience for the listener, or at least a different relationship to Crack Cloud. For me, when we're working on an album, it's not like we have a book of tricks or rules we need to abide by, or a fixed set of ingredients. It's a clean slate every time. I could honestly say that about every record we've done.
It's very compulsive, and it's kind of a different genre every time different genres dictated by where we are in life. The sound you're hearing is really just a natural consequence of our surroundings, rather than us referring back to previous work and thinking about how we can augment it. It's very disconnected, very disjointed. Honestly, we weren't sure if Peace and Purpose was a Crack Cloud record. We weren't sure Red Mile was a Crack Cloud record either.
I don't even know what Crack Cloud is.
What would you want Crack Cloud to be?
Zach: I think what I've learned is that it becomes a fickle thing when you try to put a label on it. That was probably a fallacy in the beginning, 'this is our ideology, this is where we come from, this is what we represent'. As you move forward through your time on Earth, things develop more nuance. It's about adapting to those nuances and not getting pigeonholed, while still having a firm understanding of what you believe in.
When it comes to art, though, I think it should be a space for ambiguity, a space to experiment a little more and not get bogged down by labels. Labels are important, and I think having a sense of direction and definition matters in life generally. But with Crack Cloud, not putting a specific label on it has been vital from the very beginning.
Aleem: I think that also relates to gratitude, being present with what you actually have in front of you, not just chasing what you're trying to have. That goes back to family as well. You don't get to choose it, but it's the single most important thing to you.
Zach: My dad always used to quote: 'You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.'
The 'Safe Room' video stitches together fragments from different eras of Crack Cloud's life so that past and present begin to fold into one another. Do you think of memory as archival, or more as a loop that keeps intruding on the present and shaping identity as you go?
Zach: For me, it's the latter, and sometimes I wish it didn't have such an impact on the present. I think that's probably a relatable feeling. Of course, inspiration is found in memory, but sometimes memory also impairs your ability to move forward.
In a lot of ways, art is a constant dialogue with the past a constant attempt to revisit and understand experience. So what you said is very true. Memory is powerful, but it's also deceptive. The integrity of memory, the relationship between memory and truth, that's really interesting to me.
A lot of Crack Cloud is based on true shit, but it's also about adapting, embellishing, creating fantasy out of lived experience. Experience and memory are inseparable.
Peace and Purpose / Crack Cloud
"We just felt more connected to the spirit than to the machine."
The album allows things to remain unstable: drums distort, vocals strain, instruments bleed into one another. Do you hear that abrasion as an aesthetic choice, or as a more honest documentation of the moment the music was made?
Zach: I think both. It was a beautiful experience working with a label, doing the studio thing, having maximum resources. But it felt a bit like imposter syndrome for us, and there was something really cathartic about stepping back into the past, so to speak, and returning to the old dusty drum kit that had been in storage, relying completely on ourselves for everything from engineering to mixing.
We've always had our hands in everything, but there was something radical about protecting ourselves from external influence and trusting that this was the most therapeutic thing we could do in that moment. It was intrinsic to the songs and the conditions in which they were born.
Aleem: Yeah, it was a practice of spontaneity. I'd take the bus in minus-30 winter weather with my guitar and a bass on my back to Zach's place, then walk over from the station. Realistically, it was just trying to capture lightning in a bottle-putting down exactly how we were feeling in that moment.
Everybody is complex, so we're always going through everything at once. For me, it really was just a way to continue finding a purpose on this earth at that point. When you're making art, you're so immersed in it that everything external is almost blocked out. You enter some kind of tunnel vision.
No label telling you to sell X amount. No things being waved in your face. That's just how the business is set up, so no knock to that. We just felt more connected to the spirit than to the machine, if that makes sense.
You've described Crack Cloud as a way of communicating philosophically, but much of the music relies on repetition and fragmented speech rather than a clear narrative. Are you interested in the point where language starts to break down and music takes over the work of meaning?
Zach: Yeah, I certainly feel we've tapped into that dimension in our music. I agree that there was a certain militancy to the earlier recordings we made, but I feel we've really let our guard down in recent years and found a lot of confidence in musicality as a successor to relying on rigid lyricism and all the rest of it.
At the end of the day, we're a bunch of mutts from a small town in Canada. When we go to London and find ourselves in the presence of all these conservatoire musicians, it's incredible to see. When you leave your pond and go out into the world, you realise the ceiling of talent is endless. I think we come from a different place, and maybe some people find novelty in that. I'd like to believe it's no less musical.
Aleem: I really respect the camaraderie those musicians have. We can still have a dialogue, we can still have a rapport, we can still find commonality. The spirit is the same, you know? The look is a little different, but the spirit's there.
Words: Ria Serena